


pieces

by agentcalliope



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hakoda takes a look at this boy who is firelord and is like THAT IS A CHILD, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scar reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: Like him, his children are born into war.They are not the only ones.
Relationships: Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 109
Kudos: 1557





	pieces

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for mention of Kya's death and Hakoda finding her body. It's not very descriptive, but I thought I would note it, anyways.

Like his mother, and his father, and everyone he’s ever known, Hakoda is born into war. 

His mother would wrap her calloused hand around his, dipping his fingers into the paint and drawing it across his face. _You are a wolf_ , she would say, eyes burning into his. _You protect your pack_. His father would wrap a large hand around his, the knife deep within the belly of a tiger seal. _You are a man_ , he would say, as red stained the snow. _This is how you kill_.

And his poor, proud village. The blistering, agonizing flames that engulfed and devoured until there were only bones left. He wasn’t even alive for that, but he lived everyday with the smouldering ashes. There were no more Southern waterbenders, and the Northern Water Tribe continued to stay silent, deaf to all pleas. In his tribe, he grew to learn, they can only rely on themselves. 

Hakoda grows up wielding boomerang and spear in his hands, war paint on his face, and armor on his body. He grows up teeth bared and snarling, knowing it is only time before the men with fire come back, and he must be ready for them.

He grows up knowing he is not a child because he cannot be a child. He is only a wolf, and a man.

As a wolf, he is fierce. As a man, he fiercely loves and is fiercely loved back. At first his family is two, and then three, and then four. Like their father, and their mother, his children are born into war. He knows there will come a time where he must hold their hands, and teach them the same lessons he was taught. How to spread war across their faces, hold war bloody in their hands. There is no room to be children, not here. 

_My love_ , she whispers one night when Sokka and Katara are small, caressing his cheek with weathered hands, _they are just children_. _They deserve to be children._ Her eyes are so, so beautiful and blue and filled with life, _We can allow them this, at least._

Hakoda tries to keep the lessons— _you protect your pack, this is how you kill—_ inside of him, just for himself, and tries to give his children a chance to be what they are.

But his son wants nothing more than to dip his fingers into the black, white and gray and draw the harsh lines across his face. His daughter feels the push and pull of the ocean and weaves the water clumsily through the air. His wife— well, the men with fire were always going to return. And so, just like that, four becomes three. 

(Oh how he moans, and wails, and howls. Fists his fingers through his hair and kneels at her side, hunched over in so much pain it _burns_. He chokes as the smoke fills his lungs and he gags at the smell of charred flesh. Tries to gather her with trembling fingers, holding her close even though she is burning and he is burning and as if his pounding heart and ferocious love can piece her back together again. Beside him, his daughter screams. Behind him, his son cries.)

This fucking spiritsdamned war takes more than just Kya. It must take him away from his children, too.

While the black soot still falls from the sky, he leaves and takes his pack to the fight. The men with fire will always return, and Hakoda cannot wait. Because when they do, they will take someone else from him and he wouldn’t be able to survive that again. 

His children stand at the shore, becoming smaller and smaller until they disappear. 

Three becomes one. 

Hakoda cannot cry. He cannot scream. His heart is already broken. 

(He simply cannot piece it back together.)

***

Years later, the war ends. (For them, he begins to try.)

***

He finds his daughter in the garden. She is with the Firelord, sitting at the edge of the pond, and Hakoda watches as the boy gives Katara some bread. He gestures to her to move closer to the water, and she giggles as a turtleduck takes the piece, nibbling at her fingertips.

Hakoda reaches them and drops to the ground. “It looks like you’re having fun.”

“Dad!” Katara grins, her beautiful blue eyes wide. She’s pointing out at the water. “Look how cute!”

“They are quite adorable.” He admits, although he’s only looking at her. 

The Firelord offers him some bread and Hakoda nods his thanks as he accepts. He holds it out to a smaller turtleduck and when the animal eats it from his hand, he can’t help but smile.

“That’s Quackers. He’s one of Kiki’s babies.”

“Quackers, huh?”

“Zuko named him.”

The boy, the _Firelord_ , flushes bright red. “Katara!” he hisses. 

“Well it’s true! You did!”

Hakoda laughs and reaches around Katara, patting the boy’s back as he continues to grumble. “It’s a good name, Firelord Zuko. Now, can I have another piece of bread?“

Father and daughter sit close to each other, shoulders touching, feeding the turtleducks. 

***

“The Fire Nation simply does not have enough money to—”

“Excuse me, but Ba Sing Se _simply_ doesn’t care. We are entitled to our compensation for a hundred years of war!”

Next to Hakoda, his son bristles as the Earth Kingdom ambassador continues to scream at the Firelord, who sits at the head of the table. He has his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. Besides him, if looks could kill, Suki would’ve murdered Gui a thousand times over by now. Hakoda notices how her hands are gripping her fans, ready at any moment’s notice. 

“If you could just let me finish my sentence, Ambassador Gui,” Zuko says through clenched teeth, bringing his hand down from his face. “I would tell you that you are absolutely correct. And you will get your money, eventually.”

“ _Eventually?_ ”

“The Fire Nation’s treasury is almost completely depleted—” 

“Money that came from pillaging and ravaging the Earth Kingdom as well as other nations, you mean, _Firelord_.”

“Well, yes.” The boy with the flame headpiece in his topknot tries hard not to stammer, but it slips through, anyway. “However, we do not have all the money you are asking for right now to pay you as well as—”

“Ba Sing Se is in ashes! Half the Earth Kingdom is up in smoke! We need _our_ money back _now_.”

“And you will get it—”

The man huffs. “I should’ve known the Fire Nation would have difficulty doling out reparations. What else should I have expected from a war-hungry nation and its ruler?”

_“Hey!”_ Sokka’s voice echoes throughout the war room, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. The Earth Kingdom ambassador and the rest of the council go quiet. Firelord Zuko goes white. Hakoda keeps his eyes on his son, waiting to hear what he says next. 

“Don’t you have ears? Don’t you have any _respect?_ ” Sokka spits. “Firelord Zuko has done everything he possibly can for the peace negotiations. Have you or have you not been in this meeting for the last few days? And don’t think none of us realize that the day the Avatar isn’t here is the day you disrespect Firelord Zuko.” 

Ambassador Gui swallows. Everyone holds their breath. Hakoda looks towards Zuko, and sees how his hands grip the sides of his chair, trying to catch Sokka’s attention by shaking his head slightly. Suki is stoic, but a hint of a smile plays on her face. Her hands are no longer resting on her fans. 

Sokka’s narrowed gaze stays on the ambassador and soon his voice rings out again. “Since the beginning, a hundred years ago, the Fire Nation completely tied its finances with the war. Now, the war is over, because of _us,”_ Sokka gestures towards himself, Suki, and Zuko, “and the Fire Nation is left without its biggest financial asset. This is not Firelord Zuko’s fault. He was born into the war just as all of us were. He is not responsible for the ramifications of his father and his forefathers. He is not responsible, but he is doing his best to make up for it. If you would listen to him, instead of repeatedly interrupting him, you would hear that with the amount of reparations that must be made to the Earth Kingdom _and_ Water Tribes, not to mention rebuilding its own country, the Fire Nation will go bankrupt.”

Sokka pauses. He tears his eyes from Ambassador Gui and looks around the room to the other Council Members. “Not only will people starve, but it could- no, _would_ \- cause a thousand more problems. I don’t know about all of you, but I don’t really want another war in a couple of years. It’s not unreasonable that the Fire Nation set up a payment plan for however long it takes for the amount, whatever we agree on, to be paid off.”

The council murmurs to themselves and the ambassador folds his arms, eyes narrowed. Hakoda doesn’t have to think twice before he stands up and places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “My son is right. The Southern Water Tribe stands with him.”

Sokka shoots him a grin, and Hakoda cannot help but smile back. 

Chief Arnook nods. “The Northern Water Tribe stands with her sister tribe.”

Eventually, the rest of the council concur, and even ambassador Gui mutters an apology and his agreement.

Hakoda and Sokka take their seat. 

When they’re all dismissed, father and son walk out together with the father’s arm slung proudly over his son’s shoulder. 

It’s not until later that he remembers that the Firelord stayed behind. 

***

There’s not a cloud in the sky, as Hakoda lays on the beach and listens to the waves lapping the shore. It is a gorgeous day. His children are playing in the water. 

“It was nice of the Firelord to allow us to stay here,” he says. 

“Just call him Zuko, Dad.”

“I’ll consider it when he stops calling me Chief.”

He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of his children’s laughter. 

He thinks it is beautiful. 

*** 

There’s a knock at the door. Hakoda is expecting his daughter anyway, so he calls for her to come in with a “Door’s open, Katara.”

“Chief Hakoda.” The voice is raspy and low, and definitely not Katara’s. 

“Firelord Zuko.”

“I need your help, sir.”

The boy stands in the doorway, hands fidgeting at his sides. Hakoda raises an eyebrow, setting down his inkbrush and leaning back into his seat. Beside him, the candle flickers. “Yes?”

“I don’t really know what happened but Sokka and Katara got into a fight. She’s not coming out of her room.”

“Hm.” 

“I tried to talk to her, sir. But she doesn’t seem to want to talk to me. She told me to go away. It’s been a long time, now. I’m worried.”

Hakoda sighs, running a hand over his face. His children love fiercely and fight fiercely. Spats between them are obviously nothing new, and although he has half a mind to tell this to the Firelord, the panic written across his face gives Hakoda pause. He has a sister, doesn’t he? Weren’t quarrels common between them? “And Sokka?”

“Soaking wet.” Zuko says, and Hakoda snorts. “And stormed off. I let Suki go after him.”

“Okay. I’ll go see my daughter. Thank you, Firelord.” 

Firelord Zuko ducks his head down. “You’re welcome, sir.”

The boy follows Hakoda as he makes his way to Katara’s room. Knocks gently on the door, whispering, “Katara, is everything okay?”

There’s a clatter and some footsteps before she is in front of him, face flushed and eyes rimmed with red. Firelord Zuko takes a step back as Katara takes a shuddering breath, staring at Hakoda. “Sokka—”

“What happened?” he asks, softly. 

“He’s just— just so _annoying_.” She stamps her foot and wipes at her eyes before crossing her arms. “Everything has to be about him and if it’s not, he _makes_ it about him! I’m tired of it, Dad! He’s such an asshole!”

“Hm.” Behind him, he hears the boy inhale sharply. Hakoda keeps his gaze on his daughter.

“The biggest asshole I’ve ever met! The biggest asshole in the world!” Hakoda waits for her to finish. “Well? Aren’t you going to scold me?” She challenges, although her voice wavers. “I just called Sokka an asshole! Three times!”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” 

“Then I won’t. You know that that’s wrong.” 

Katara swallows. “Dad, I also may or may not have poured water on him.”

“I know. And I know you know that was wrong, too. Later you’ll apologize to him, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And I will talk to him, and he’ll apologize to you as well. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, do you want a hug?”

“Please.” 

“Okay.” Hakoda opens his arms wide, and she falls into him seamlessly, as if he was born for the very purpose of holding his daughter and holding her tight. Everything else fades away. He closes his eyes and breathes in her scent, and thinks that _yes_ he could stay this way forever, if he could. 

(For all he loves his mother, and his father, and knows that they loved him, he doesn’t think they ever held him like this. They held his hands of course, and taught him how to become a wolf and a man, but he doesn’t remember them ever holding him like a child. He hugs his own child closer to his chest, and blinks away the wetness.)

“Come now,” he says after a moment, letting go of his daughter and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I think what you need is someone to talk to. I happen to know just the person.”

“Who?” Katara replies, sniffling yet showing the hint of a sly smile on her face. 

Hakoda jabs his thumb into his chest, grinning. “Your old man, of course!”

“I don’t know. I might have to see your qualifications.”

“Does the hug not count? Because I can do it again.”

He follows Katara into the room, and closes the door. 

He doesn’t remember until later that he closed the door on the boy, too. 

***

“Son, I love you, but what exactly is that?”

“It’s Zuko’s portrait!” Sokka answers gleefully. 

Hakoda squints, looking from the painting to the Firelord in question and then back at the painting again. He shakes his head. “This looks nothing like him. In fact, this doesn’t even look like a person.”

“What do you mean? Of course it does!” Sokka points his finger at Zuko. “Zuko, tell him it looks like you!” 

The boy nervously glances from Hakoda to Sokka, then Sokka to Hakoda. “Sokka, you know I’m a bad liar.”

“I. Hate. Both of you.” Sokka snarls through clenched teeth. There is ink all over his hands and his face. It looks much better than war paint. 

***

It begins like this:

“Dad?”

He’s lying on the ground, Sokka and Katara by his sides. Above him, the sky is full of darkness and bright stars. Below, the grass is soft. He is content, here, and he draws his children closer. Hakoda turns his head to meet his daughter’s gaze.

Her eyes look like her mother’s. 

_My love, they are only children. We can allow them this, at least._

“Yes, my love?”

She pauses before she whispers. “You would never hurt us, right?”

Hakoda blinks. He remembers a darkened sky and a swaying boat, holding Katara to his aching chest. She’s crying because he left, although she understands why. 

He understands, too.

Hakoda always did what he was taught, by his mother and his father and the war. Protect his family, kill the enemy. Do whatever it takes.

Even if it means leaving his children behind. 

Hakoda clears his throat and searches her eyes for answers. 

“What do you mean?” he replies at the same time Sokka warns with a “Katara.” 

“Like, would there ever be a reason for you to… hurt us? Hit us?”

“Of course not.” Hakoda immediately answers. “Of course not.”

She exhales. “Okay.”

“Katara, where is this coming from?”

Neither of them reply. The grass below him is no longer as soft, the stars above no longer as bright. There is a pit in his stomach that begins to grow and a bitterness in his mouth that he begins to taste. 

Something is not right, here. 

And his children know something he does not.

***

It continues like this:

“I’m worried about him.”

“Me too.”

Hakoda cups his hands around an ear and leans against the door, listening to Sokka and Katara whisper to each other. He’s sure that they think he cannot hear, because of what they say.

“This is the third time he’s gone. I don’t understand it.”

“Katara, if it was our dad, we would be visiting, too.”

“Yeah, but Dad isn’t Ozai. After everything that that _evil_ man did? To Azula? To _him?_ And it’s not like afterwards Zuko feels better. He always looks so terrible, and sad. It breaks my heart.”

*** 

And this:

“Katara, I think we just got really lucky. To have Dad.”

“I think so, too.”

***

And, finally, he pieces it together like this:

The boy’s embarrassment as Katara mentioned how he named the turtleducks.

The silent terror as Sokka interrupted the war reparations meeting.

The insistence on referring to him as Chief Hakoda.

The panic when Katara fought with her brother, called him an asshole, and dumped water on him. 

The nervousness about telling Sokka, in front of Hakoda, that his drawing was terrible, even though it definitely was. 

How his children were in his arms as they stared up at the sky, asking him if he would ever intentionally hurt them. If he would _hit_ them. How his children talked to each other about how Firelord Zuko visits his father, who was the Firelord before him, and who is an evil man for what _he has done to his children_.

(The boy has a scar on his face in the shape of a hand.)

Hakoda looks down at his own hands, large and calloused. They flicker in the light of the candles. He imagines—

No. He cannot. It makes him sick. 

He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he sits by each of his children’s beds, and listens to them breathe. 

***

Hakoda means to find Zuko, but Zuko finds him first. 

Early mornings, Hakoda likes to take walks along the water, down by the harbor. It is here that he stands at the edge of the ocean when he hears the footsteps. He looks back to see the Firelord with his guards, Suki giving him a slight nod and smile before returning to her impassive gaze. Zuko lifts a hand, and then steps forward until he reaches Hakoda, the Kyoshi Warriors staying behind. 

“Chief Hakoda.”

“Firelord Zuko.”

They look out to the water, the waves roaring and howling, and the spray hitting their faces. The wind whips through their hair and their clothes. Hakoda waits for the boy to speak. 

Eventually, he does, although his face is red and his eyes are cast down. Hakoda thinks that he’s trying to make himself seem small. “I would like to talk with you about something.”

“Okay.”

“It’s personal.”

“That’s okay, too.”

Zuko takes a deep breath and then meets Hakoda’s gaze. “Sokka and Katara… I really appreciate them. I never really had my own friends, before. I, uh, I really enjoy spending time with them. And stuff. So, thanks.”

Hakoda smiles softly. “They are great kids, aren't they?” He says, and practically sees the tension roll off of Zuko’s shoulders. The boy grins back. 

“Yeah. They really are.”

“My children love you, Zuko.” He doesn’t feel the need to put _Firelord_ in front of the boy’s name, anymore. 

“I love them, too.”

Hakoda tilts his head up towards the sky, and closes his eyes. The heat of the sun warms his face. “I was born into war, the same as Sokka and Katara, and you. There are many hard lessons I had to learn and that my children had to learn.” He pauses. “And although the world is unkind and unforgiving, I’ve tried to allow them to be children. To be happy.” He turns to look at the child standing next to him, who has the ghost of a hand etched onto his skin and Hakoda has to clear his throat before he says: “And they are happy with you. So, for that, I thank you. And I’m glad to know that they make you happy, too. You deserve that, at least, Zuko.”

The boy is unmoving, and silent. It takes a moment but then Zuko blinks, dragging a sleeve across his eyes. “It’s taken me a while to realize that.”

The boy who is also Firelord and the man who is also a wolf stand together, side by side. The rising sun casts shadows on the ground, and the waves rock against the shore. It is quiet. It is peaceful. 

Hakoda exhales. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Em, Alex, Luka, Kim and Meagan for reading this over. My Kyoshi warriors! Please leave a kudos and review :)


End file.
